


Dead Eye

by Galacteddy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, How Do I Tag, Young Jesse McCree, basically how Gabriel sees young McCree, it's my first work and it's crap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:24:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8123428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galacteddy/pseuds/Galacteddy
Summary: The world has never been kind to Gabriel Reyes, his eyes have seen plenty destruction and nasty stuff. But a kid with such a soulless gaze, that sees the world as something he has to aim at and shoot down with a single bullet, is by far the worst.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I was having young McCree feels and I thought why not write them down. The title is basically unrelated but I'm bad at them so have it anyway. Keep in mind this is unbeta'd and that I rarely ever write. The main characters are Gabriel and McCree, the others are just mentioned.
> 
> [edited it a bit because of reasons, also the rating went up because someone dies]

Gabriel Reyes has seen some scary shit in his thirty-something years of life. For fuck's sake, he was the Overwatch Commander during the Omnic Crisis. His dark eyes have seen enough that he can imagine how the fiery flames of hell look like. But this... kid? How old is he anyway? Is by far worse. It's not in warmth and indomitable scorching fury that he reminds him of all the scary stories he's heard while still a recruit. It's in the vacant and cold stare of Jesse McCree that he discovers what "gazing into the abyss and have it stare right back at you" actually means. Not bombs, not killing machines, not death and blood. A child that's got his hands covered in someone else's blood, and isn't bothered by the weight of the (also bloodied) gun in his hands. That's some terrifying shit.

When he got into the interrogation room he expected pleading, crying, begging for something. What he got was that empty stare, and eyes as dry of feelings as this fucking desert's dry of water. Jesse McCree asked him, in a Spanish a bit different than the one his own mother taught him, how many of Blackwatch were dead or injured by his revolver. Gabriel didn't give him the satisfaction of knowing, because it was embarrassing how a kid without a proper beard on his face could thin his ranks like this. Instead, Gabriel sat across him and stared him down. Lanky limbs, sharp eyes, a thin frame. He knew what he could do with an old revolver. All the bad things this child's done and would do if he was let loose. He's never wanted a family life, Gabriel, but just looking at the young man sitting in front of him made him decide he wanted to see this kid do good. 

As in, become a hero. The kind of hero both he and Jack had dreamt of becoming, long ago. He offered him the deal. The kid weighed his options with that same expression on his face, and said "Opción dos." because of course, who would choose prison over a free bed, free meals and access to actual training with weapons.  
He didn't expect McCree to be grateful, at first. He knew damn well that Blackwatch was just as bad as Deadlock, but he could monitor him. He could try and make Jesse see the world in front of him as something he could change. Not as something that he had to aim at and shoot down with a single bullet.

He had to admit that Jesse McCree was one hell of a tough kid. The tears he had expected at the start never came, instead sarcasm. Cynicism and mean comments, uttered under his breath in rude Spanish. Gabriel smacked him upside the head every time. McCree continued. He knew just the right amount of insubordination he could afford without risking to be punished for it. He never crossed the wrong lines, and during missions he followed orders. When he was asked how many were left alive, the answer was always the same. "None". And then he'd sit down and polish his revolver, his hands dirty (just like when they found him) and his eyes empty. An excellent student. A good asset. A failure of a person.

Gabriel doesn't know how to be soft about things, so it's with fighting that he shows McCree how to save himself. He lets Amari teach him about life. He didn't trust her at first, because why the fuck would he, he probably doesn't even trust his own shadow. But he did warm up to her. Gabriel watched from afar Ana teaching him how to actually make coffee that didn't taste like boiled dirt. He watched from afar little Fareeha being dragged away by a frowning Angela Ziegler when McCree was around. He saw the minuscule twitch in his eyebrows. Surprisingly enough, McCree never stirs up fights. The cold flames of his being only spark up when he's got a mission to finish, orders to follow and his gun in hand.

Gabriel still feels slightly terrified, but being constantly exposed to something numbs you to it. He's still trying to make him see the good in the world. It's hard, for him, though. Because the world hasn't been good to him at all. Gabriel snooped around, one time, for files about Jesse's life and family. His father was murdered, his mother was an alcoholic that was found dead in the same room as they found little Jesse. He joined Deadlock at the age of ten, and he already knew how to shoot and kill by the age of eleven. Everyone in Santa Fe knew of him, why wouldn't they after all. They told him about how he liked to steal candy when it was left outside, but he always left something in its place. It often was nothing of worth, but it was proof that he did have a sense of justice, somewhere. A nice kid, he was back then. He'd just been dealt the wrong cards, is all.

When Gabriel gifted him a new revolver for his eighteenth birthday, he told him the gun's name was Peacekeeper. He could do what he deemed proper with it, but he shouldn't forget why he's fighting with them. Why Overwatch and Blackwatch exist and why he's part of them. He knows McCree wants to say something about forced choices, but Gabriel doesn't let him. McCree never thanks him for it (but when has McCree thanked him for anything really), but he never once sees Peacekeeper dirtied or stained with blood. It always shines bright and clean in Jesse's tan hands, even when they're covered with someone else's blood.

 

Images of young kids with shaggy hair and vacant stares come back to his mind briefly, while he stares down the barrel of the same gun he gifted the ingrate twenty years ago. He wants to laugh at the irony of it, but he doesn't. McCree's eyes aren't as dead as they used to be then, instead there's hot rage, and disappointment. As if he held up Reyes to a standard, and he's dropped so low now he's disgusted by him. He hisses it to him, to pull the trigger. He'd do him a favor, truly, if he did. McCree's never hesitated when taking his shots, and Gabriel knows that better than anyone else. But this time he waits. He searches for somebody he admired, long ago, on Reaper's scarred face. Under the cracked mask. And when he doesn't find what he's looking for, his frown deepens. He's older than Gabriel was when they first met now. Another thing that hurts what's left of his soul with how ironically painful it is. "I've never thanked Gabriel Reyes for what he's done for me. I guess I'll never get the chance to." Jesse says, his voice isn't cruel, just truthful. Reaper is waiting for the bullet to shatter him, finally. "I'll tell him that when we meet in hell." is the last thing he says, before Jesse's six-shooter gets bloodied once again. Not coldness and ruthlessness and dry desert, but a hot boiling mess of feelings, and the tears he refused to shed. He's never thanked Gabriel for what he's done, but he does believe that they're square now. He's paid his debt.


End file.
